


Philippe

by LadyBookwormWithTeeth



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pony Play, Woobie Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:43:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7384204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBookwormWithTeeth/pseuds/LadyBookwormWithTeeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumpelstiltskin loses his lady's horse. She needs a replacement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Philippe

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter notes: pony play. I have no idea how this happened. I've rated this explicit for future chapters, but MATURE for this one.  
> Beta: Maddiebonanafana

There was nothing left to say or do but apologize and hope for his lady's mercy, though Rumpelstiltskin wasn't holding his breath. For lesser crimes, he'd seen servants being whipped raw. Granted, never by his lady, who'd proven to be compassionate more often than not. In the two years he'd been under her service, Rumpelstiltskin hadn't managed to get on her bad side once. Not too long ago, she'd even offered him one of her most radiant smiles and told him, “I can always count on you, my dear Rumple. No one is as devoted as you.” And his chest had swollen with pride.

Maybe that was the reason why he was now marching back to the stable with his head low and a crime to confess. He'd gotten too confident in her indulgence, and that had turned his pride into arrogance. He started thinking too highly of himself when he should've known better. Just because Lady Belle was foolish enough to entrust him with her most prized possession, it didn't mean he was apt enough to take care of it. But, if Lady Belle had said so, by all means, it had to be true. He'd developed such a blind faith in her that, if she ever told him the moon was actually the sun, he'd have believed her.

Why did it have to be this, though? Why, of all the things that could have earned him his lady's scorn, did it have to be the horse? Her heart would be broken once she learned he was missing. And she'd go back to seeing him as the village coward, the lame spinner she had rescued out of clemency, but who should have never been trusted.

If only the horse had found his way home. But, as luck would have it, the stable was empty, except for his lady, who awaited to ride her beloved stallion. As usual, she'd braided her hair, which only accentuated her youth and beauty. Most women still wore skirts when riding, but she insisted on wearing pants and tall boots that showed off her calves. Around the kingdom, the gossip about Lady Belle was vicious. This was no way for a young widow to behave.

Belle spotted him coming into the stable and smiled. Rumpelstiltskin felt his mouth go dry. He shouldn't be here. He should've gone straight home and told Baelfire to pack their things. As soon as she found out what he'd done, there would be no forgiveness and they'd have to leave.

“My lady,” he said, bowing his head respectfully.

“Good sir,” she replied, offering a curtsy of her own, even though she didn't have to.

Rumple saw that she was holding the riding crop, though she hardly ever used it on Philippe. Animals, just like people, behaved best through positive reinforcement rather than lashes, she had told him once. But Rumpelstiltskin was sure she'd open an exception for this situation. To be honest, if she was so mad as to whip him on the spot, he'd be relieved. A well-deserved punishment. He'd throw himself at her feet and wait for her anger to be satisfied. Maybe then she'd allow him to stay and, someday, trust him again.

“It seems that my horse has been misplaced,” she told him, in good nature, looking around as if she was trying to find Philippe hidden somewhere in the stable.

“Oh, my lady,” he sighed, a pitiful sound that wiped the smile off her lips. “My lady, I am so very sorry.”

“What is it, Rumple?” she asked, taking a step closer, a concerned expression on her face. She was always worried about him.

Tears were stinging his eyes and he tried to fight them back. She wouldn't respect him any better if she saw him cry.

“You see,” he continued, in a strained voice, “I was grooming him this morning for your run and... I must have done something. I think I startled him and he knocked me down.”

“Goodness! Are you hurt?”

“He ran off.”

Belle went quiet, all her concern quickly forgotten.

“He ran off,” he continued, “and I've spent the entire day looking for him, but I couldn't find him.”

“Philippe is fast,” she said, not yet angry, but with a soft wrinkle between her eyebrows that only showed up when she considered the issue at hand to be very serious. “You cannot chase him down by foot.”

Rumple nodded. He'd known that. Even though his foot was now healed and he could walk like a regular man – another act of mercy by his lady – he was still not as fast as Philippe, who was reputed to be the fastest stallion in all the realms. By the time Rumpelstiltskin managed to get back on his feet, the horse was nowhere to be found. He should've called for help right then and there, but he'd been too afraid. If Lady Belle heard of what had happened, she'd only think he was unfit to tend to her horse. So he tried to find him on his own, which hadn't just been foolish, but also extremely selfish on his part. He'd chosen his pride over his lady's happiness.

Belle started pacing the room. She didn't seem angry yet, but pensive. She held the other end of the crop with her hand and flexed it, the way she always did when she was thinking. Rumple found that to be a fascinating gesture and, more often than not, he couldn't take his eyes away. This evening though, he held his gaze to the floor.

“Have you called for Graham?” she finally asked.

“I have, my lady. But Philippe went into the forest early in the morning, and he's having trouble finding his tracks.”

“There are ogres in there,” she mused, each word tugging at his heart. “Thieves, too. Or he might have fallen into the river.”

“I'm so sorry, my lady. I know I've disappointed-”

“You have. You know better than this.”

The interruption was soft, but it still made him go quiet. When he didn't say anything for a few seconds, she stopped pacing the room and looked at him. The expression on his face must have been one of complete distress because her eyes softened.

“Rumple, I'm not mad,” she told him.

“You should be,” he said, immediately reprimanding himself for it. Who did he think he was to tell a lady what she should or should not be?

“Rumple...” she said, stepping close enough to him to touch his cheek. He startled but didn't move. “You made a mistake, my dear Rumple. I know you just didn't want to upset me.”

Rumple took her hand from his cheek, but didn't let go of it. It was an easy lie, one that would probably get him back into her good graces much faster than the truth. But he knew which one his lady always preferred.

“I was selfish. I didn't want you to think of me as weak,” he confessed.

“Never!” she protested. “You are my most devoted servant, Rumple. Nobody in this castle has shown their dedication to me as much as you have.”

He took a deep breath. As he exhaled, Rumpelstiltskin could feel all fear leaving his body.

“May I still tend to your horse?” he asked, though it sounded more like a plead.

“Of course. I know this won't happen again.”

Rumple shook his head and looked down at their hands. Belle never seemed to have a problem with touching him, which he found very disconcerting at times. This wasn't the way a lady should treat a humble servant like himself, he should be glad to even deserve a glance. Not that he was complaining. The weight of her hand on his shoulder and her sweet voice telling him he'd done a great job was enough to set his heart on fire. Still, it was such a sacrilegious sight, her soft, white skin against his own, callous and filthy from a day's work. He let go of it and took a step back for good measure.

Belle stood still for a moment. He could feel her eyes on him, though he still didn't dare to look at them. Then, she cleared her throat and started pacing the stable again.

“Graham will find him,” she mused, reassuring him as much as herself. “I'm sure of it. He's our best hunter.”

“Should I have another horse ready in the meantime, my lady?”

Belle opened her mouth to answered, but closed it quickly. Frowned.

“It doesn't feel right to ride any other horse,” she concluded. “I should, I know I should. I'll never win the race if I don't practice. And maybe I'll need a replacement for the race, one can never be sure. But... it doesn't feel right.”

“I'm sorry, my lady,” he repeated.

“It's alright, Rumple.”

“It's not. I didn't mean to cause such a hassle. I would... I would carry you around on my own back, if I could.”

He waited for Belle to either roll her eyes at him, or laugh. She often said he had a penchant for the dramatic that she found quite charming. It amused her more often than not. However, this time, she just went quiet.

“Do you mean that?” she asked, after a moment of silence.

Rumple looked up to find her eyes on him. Bright blue eyes staring into his soul. Something in what he'd said had peeked her interest.

“I do, my lady,” he answered, without even thinking about it.

“And... if I...” she trailed off. Then, she shook her head. “No.”

“What?” he asked, taking a step forward.

“Nothing,” she replied, flexing her riding crop again, over and over, like a nervous tick. “It is nothing.”

“My lady, what?”

Belle went as far as to open her lips, but then bit down on them, hard, to keep the words from coming out. There was a soft tint of red on her cheeks, an indication of shame that Rumpelstiltskin didn't appreciate. She shouldn't feel ashamed. Nothing she could say would ever be wrong or sinful, not to his ears anyway.

“My lady, _please_ , what?” he insisted. He had to know, if only to tell her that it was okay and that there was no reason to feel embarrassed.

Belle stopped playing with the riding crop and stood in front of him. Even though her demeanor was as firm as ever, Rumpelstiltskin couldn't help but feel as if she were offering herself for his judgment when she spoke.

“If I were to... ask that of you. Wouldn't you be offended?”

His answer was quick. “Never.”

“I don't want you to say what you think I want to hear. I want you to be sincere with me.”

“I am. If anything, it would make me happy to serve you.”

Belle still looked at him in doubt. She treated him as carefully as she did everyone else and she didn't want to hurt him, even if inadvertently. So, to show her that he meant it, Rumpelstiltskin fell to his hands and knees. His eyes were on the floor again, but he could hear her gasp at his gesture. The sound was so sharp and shocked that he feared she'd order him to his feet immediately.

Instead, she took a step closer. And another. And another, until she was standing by his side and Rumpelstiltskin could see the laces on her boots. Two years ago, Lady Belle had found him like this, on his hands and knees, kissing a soldier's boots to prove his fealty. A small humiliation to grant his son another day to live. But if she were to ask the same of him now, he'd dare say he wouldn't feel humiliated; in fact, he might marvel at the chance to leave a kiss on her feet. How many men wouldn't get half as much?

But Belle made no such request, instead running a hand through his hair. Rumpelstiltskin sighed with contentment. He could feel her gaze on him, examining up and down his spine, so he made an effort to keep a good posture. He spread his knees just a little further apart and squared his shoulders to look confident, even though his heart was racing.

“You truly are my most devoted servant, Rumpelstiltskin,” she said.

Then – as he thought of how much he loved the sound of his own name in her lips, and how she hardly ever used it because she always called him “Rumple” or “my dear Rumple”, which was sweet and made him melt like butter, but didn't make his heart flutter like his full name – she passed one leg over him. His fingers dug into the dirt and he tried to keep his breath steady, but the wait was making him impatient. He only fully relaxed when she lowered herself onto his back and pressed her knees to his sides. Only then he was truly happy. This was the perfect retribution for losing her horse. It was fitting that Rumple should take his place.

The place of the thing that she loved the most.

Belle's fingers gripped his hair a little harder, pulling his head back slightly. Her touch was so gentle. Even her backside felt soft against his spine. He could feel that she was holding back and putting as much of her weight on her own legs as she could, but he wished she wouldn't. Rumple would welcome the heaviness both as a punishment and a privilege.

The tip of her riding crop stroked up and down his right thigh, tracing it, teasing it.

“Am I too heavy?” she asked, her voice merely a whisper.

“You are perfect,” he said, too lost into his own happiness to question whether that was proper or not. “I'd do anything for you, my lady. Anything to please you.”

“You'd let me ride you?”

“Ride me. Whip me. I'd carry you on my back across the finish line and win that race for you.”

She giggled at his ludicrous promise. “We'd have to practice. For many days.”

God, what a thought. To be like this for weeks, her weight pressing down his back, her riding crop stroking his thighs, her hand pulling at his hair like as if it were Philippe's mane.

“Good,” he sighed.

Belle bent over to give him a kiss on the back of his head, sending a chill through his body that she was bound to have felt on his skin. Then, she got up and the spell was broken. Her backside, her knees, her riding crop, everything was gone but the hand gripping his hair, and even that had softened. For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin stood still, disoriented about what had just happened. He even thought she might laugh at him for their foolishness, but she didn't.

“It's getting late, my dear Rumple,” she told him, sweet and gentle as ever, that rough whisper gone from her voice. “It's time to go home to your son.”

Rumple sat back on his heels. Her hand slipped away from his hair.

“My lady...” he started, sounding as if he wanted to apologize, even though he didn't know what for.

“You need to go home now,” she coaxed him. “I want you to think of what you've offered me. Tomorrow, if you're still willing, we'll talk about this arrangement.”

“My lady...” he tried again. He was ready. He wanted to serve her now.

But Belle just shushed him and stroked his cheek. Rumple leaned into her touch, reassured in her affection.

“Do as I say, my dear Rumple,” she insisted. “There will be time for this tomorrow, if you're still willing.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts are welcomed!


End file.
